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Y Quotes

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All Y Quotes

“You're so fucking beautiful when you come," he said, cupping her face, nuzzling her mouth. "Now turn around and bend over. I need to ride you." Tate opened her eyes and let out a shaky laugh. "Bend over the table? After being on my feet the whole night? I don't think so, buddy. I want on my back, pronto." "And I want in you. Now," he said as he lifted her left leg, hooked his elbow under her knee, and entered her.”

“You're so hypno-something, could you be the devil, could you be an angel, your touch is something good, feels like going floating, leave my body glowing." "Katy Perry? She's singing Katy Perry in the hospital bathroom. Just when you think you've seen it all," Sally mumbled. She knocked on the door again. Still no answer, so she started banging. Then she was banging and hollering, "JEN! OPEN THE FREAKING DOOR!" Wouldn't you know, she just sang louder. Why am I not surprised, she thought.”

“You're so much like my husband was. A great deal of self-love, an equal amount of self-pity. He felt that no one loved him—he was certainly right about that as far as I was concerned—and he thought that gave him the license to love himself. And to pity himself at the same time. Self-love is perhaps the greatest sin of all. It stifles the basic drive of man, which is to search for love until he finds it. Self-love is simply the easy way out; self-pity is the justification for it.”

“You’re…something else,” I said honestly, softly. The words were simple on the outside, but the true meaning behind them hung like stars in the air between us as I traced the first fledgling petals of a delicate rose beside one of the tentacles on his ropey forearm. You’re something else meant… You’re perfect. You’re wonderful. It meant… You’re surprising. You’re better than anyone I’ve ever met before. You’re confusing in the best way. Three innocent words, with a love poem hidden between the cracks.”

“You’re sorry? I damn near drank myself to death, I could barely get out of bed, I shattered my phone into a million pieces on New Year’s Eve to keep from calling you … and you’re sorry?” I bit my lip and nodded, ashamed. I had no idea what he’d been through, and hearing his say the words made sharp pain twist inside my chest. “I’m so … so sorry.” “You’re forgiven,” he said with a grin. “Don’t ever do it again.” “I won’t. I promise.” He flashed his dimple and shook his head. “I fucking love you.”

“You’re sorry? I damn near drank myself to death, I could barely get out of bed, I shattered my phone into a million pieces on New Year’s Eve to keep from calling you … and you’re sorry?” I bit my lip and nodded, ashamed. I had no idea what he’d been through, and hearing his say the words made sharp pain twist inside my chest. “I’m so … so sorry.” “You’re forgiven,” he said with a grin. “Don’t ever do it again.” “I won’t. I promise.” He flashed his dimple and shook his head. “I fucking love you.” º”

“You’re staring,” Alec said. His voice was clipped, disapproving. “At that girl. With the red hair.” "The one with the dark-haired friend?” Jace said. “I am not.” “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t know she had a dark-haired friend,” said Alec, who was terminally literal. “And besides, he’s probably her boyfriend." “He’s not,” Jace said immediately, and then realized he had no reason for assuming that, and also shouldn’t be speculating about the love lives of mundane”

“You're staring at my boobs." Her tone is wry but somehow not insulted. "I am aware." I should be sorry, but I'm not. "I'm staring at your peachy butt, too, if we're being totally honest here." "Macon." I glance up at her. "Your body is fucking luscious, Delilah. Bitable in the best way possible. A juicy peach, a sweet apple covered in caramel. Do you know how much I'd kill for a caramel apple right now, Tot? And me stuck on this hell diet. It's a torment, I say." "I don't think this is very professional," she says weakly. "I should hope not." God, I love teasing her. Her whole body lights up when I do it. Foreplay. Does she realize that's what we're doing? "I was just thinking---" "What did I say about you thinking?" she warns. "They don't look like bananas now, Tot." "Oh my God, you're terrible." But she's grinning now. Fighting damn hard not to show it, but definitely grinning. "More like peaches. Ripe, juicy peaches." She sways in my direction before catching herself doing it and shifting her weight. "You called my butt peachy." A dry complaint. "My boobs can't be peaches too." Maybe I have a thing for peaches." Somehow, we're only a foot apart, the space between us humming with something. It licks over my tender skin, tickles the back of my neck. Take it slow, Saint. She's skittish. Back off. My body resents this greatly and strains toward her warmth. Her voice is a thread, drawn tight. "You're still staring." "Paying proper respect," I amend quietly. "You don't ignore a body like yours. It would be rude." "Pretty sure you have that backward." She's breathless now, her glorious breasts rising and falling with agitation. I lean down, take in the warmth of her scent. "Come on, Tot. I've grown up, seen the error of my ways. Give me your bountiful banana pie." Again she sways into my space, laughing softly. "Pervert. You're not getting any pie from me." I hum, heat and need making my head swim. "But I have this craving." She's whispering now. "Disappointment can be character building." "I'll need my strength for that. How about peach pie?" Kiss me, Delilah. Or let me kiss you. I'm not picky. The pulse at the base of her tanned neck visibly beats. The scent of her skin is like honey. "I thought you wanted banana cream," she says, a dazed look in her eyes. The tips of my fingers touch the collar of her shirt. "I don't think pie is what I want anymore.”